Nanny Confidential

by Philippa Christian

  ‘Maybe you’re right, Mama.’ I surprised myself with my answer, as I usually make it a rule never to book a holiday in the middle of a contract. ‘After the craziness of the past few weeks I could probably do with a break. I’ll talk to Alysha and see what I can organise.’

  ‘Really? Oh, Lindsay, that’s wonderful. I can’t believe I might get to see you soon!’ The excitement in my mother’s voice made me feel instantly guilty that I hadn’t visited sooner and that I hadn’t suggested it myself.

  ‘It might only be for a few days’ I warned. ‘But it would be better than nothing. You better stock up on Vegemite and Tim Tams because I’m having withdrawal symptoms over here. Oh, and can you organise a chauffeur to pick me up from the airport with my suitcases?’

  There was a stunned silence, then my mum laughed awkwardly. I realised she didn’t know if I was joking. What did she think I’d become?

  12

  ‘Of course you can have five days off in a row. Go and spend time with your family. You deserve it.’

  It was worryingly easy to get Alysha to agree to give me time off for a whistlestop tour back to Australia. In my contract I’m allocated thirteen days off a year, but very few elite nannies take their vacation allowance. That’s why I got a sinking feeling when Alysha agreed to my holiday request so quickly. I was right to be nervous, as the very next day my boss called in the favour.

  ‘Lindsay, I was thinking that your trip could be the perfect opportunity for the kids and me to visit the house in the Bahamas,’ explained my boss, after summoning me to her sun lounger next to the swimming pool. ‘Then you could fly with us to the Bahamas. It’s practically on your way to Australia, isn’t it? You’re so much better than me at keeping the kids occupied on the plane.’

  She was right about one thing (if not the geography of Los Angeles, the Bahamas and Melbourne)—I am a pro when it comes to long-haul travel with preschoolers, but only because I’ve had so much practice.

  My high-profile clients, whether they’re politicians, royalty, businessmen or superstars, have one thing in common—they fly a lot and, therefore, so do I.

  I know the layout of every major airport in the world off by heart, especially the first- and business-class lounges. I could manoeuvre check-ins and security gates with my eyes closed if I had to. I’ve had to replace three passports in three years, not because they have been lost or stolen but because I’ve run out of pages to stamp.

  As any parent knows, a long-haul flight with a child is a military operation at the best of times, but it’s ten times harder when that child is from a powerful family. If we’re flying with an airline, extra security guards have to be brought in, and the pilot and crew have to sign confidentiality agreements vowing they won’t leak anything to the press (no celeb wants a paper getting photos of them drooling onto an armrest).

  When you go on holiday with rich and famous children, there are so many additional factors to think about. The sheer amount of luggage is overwhelming, as you have to pack for every eventuality, from beach days to red carpet events and outdoor photo shoots. It’s not uncommon for Alysha to tip off the paparazzi to our location and, if a photographer does whizz past on a jet ski, she expects the children to be wearing perfectly colour-coordinated outfits. She has a rule that the kids must have two swimsuit changes per day. It’s a good thing private jets don’t have luggage restrictions like airlines.

  I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of taking a detour to the Bahamas, but I sensed that my trip home depended on my cooperation. So, the plan was set. I would fly to Nassau with Alysha and the children, stay one night, and then fly on to Melbourne. While they were away, a ‘travel nanny’ would take care of the needs of the kids. In the Bahamas, so many famous families visit for holidays that there are nanny agencies that provide part-time nannies to cover their short-term stays. The good news was that I didn’t have to accompany them on the way back, as they were only staying for the weekend. That’s fourteen hours of flight time with six children for a 48-hour holiday.

  Alysha loves taking ‘speed vacations’ such as this, where the length of the flight can be longer than the amount of time they’re at the destination. I sometimes wonder if it’s the novelty factor of proving she’s wealthy enough to do so. I once overheard Alysha’s accountant complaining about her travel budget—apparently a five-hour flight that Alysha had taken to visit a hair stylist had cost $35,000 in fuel.

  I used to work for a businessman in Sydney whose favourite weekend activity was taking his private jet on a ‘day trip’ to Antarctica. They wouldn’t even land, just fly around looking at the icebergs and then fly home again.

  Some private jets are more extravagant than others. When I travel with royalty or politicians, their private jets have conference rooms with long boardroom tables, video screens and conference-call capabilities. When I’m flying with just the children they’ll often use this room to watch DVDs or call their school friends while they’re 38,000 feet up in the air.

  I know a family living in Dallas who own three private planes. I’m not talking about small aircrafts—these are the size of Boeing 747s. They’ve decorated the inside of each plane like a house, so that when they fly, the five children can function as normal. They each have their own separate bedroom on board, eat in a dining room and then move to the living room to watch television. The kids still have to do chores on the plane and sit in a classroom to finish their homework. It’s not like being on an aircraft at all. It’s also spotless, as a team of cleaners are constantly hoovering and dusting, even when they’re in the air.

  In comparison to this, the private jet the Applebys own is relatively modest. It can seat up to nine people, but ‘only’ has one cabin and a bathroom. However, the bathroom does have a shower to allow Alysha to ‘refresh’ before disembarking. She often also flies with a make-up artist so she’s never caught arriving anything but #flawless.

  The week before Alysha flies I have to send the head of the cabin crew a ‘rider’, which is basically a list of food and drinks she needs on board, plus any special requirements to make her journey enjoyable. I always feel deeply embarrassed sending this type of list to the charter company, as some of the demands can be so ridiculous. Alysha insists on only drinking ‘diamond water’, which is blessed by ‘priestesses’ and filtered through real diamonds, according to the company that bottles it. On top of this, Sir Cameron Appleby insists the in-flight entertainment system only plays movies that he’s directed—even if he’s not actually flying.

  ‘Tell the flight attendant not to wear that horrible perfume she had on last time,’ Alysha had instructed. ‘It gave me a headache.’ I had to tell the airline that Alysha had allergies and requested that none of the crew wore any man-made fragrances.

  It was embarrassing to be making such fussy requests, but still, this behaviour was nothing in comparison with the demands of some of my previous employers. I once accompanied a teenage prince on a first class flight from the Middle East to New York City. During the trip he was served a $1000 desert made of edible gold and truffle ice-cream, which was served in a bejewelled gold goblet.

  When I worked for the rock star Bryant Dasilva he insisted that all the airline staff, including the pilot, wear T-shirts from his band’s official merchandise range. He also travelled everywhere with his pet budgerigar, Ralph, which flew freely around the cabin. He demanded that every hotel room we stayed in had a copy of The Power of One on the bedside table. I also had to pack a pedestal fan wherever we went, as he claimed he couldn’t sleep without it whirring in the corner.

  On top of the crazy demands and extra security measures, one thing that made travelling with the Applebys difficult was all the tweeting, posing and Facebook posting. Thanks to in-flight wi-fi, every moment is an opportunity for a selfie. Here’s Alysha reclining on a flat bed, wearing her in-flight pyjamas while sipping a glass of chilled champagne. Wish you were here?

  I was hoping that, seeing as Alysha now had a social media o
fficer, this would become a lot easier. However, as it turned out, there wasn’t enough room for Crystal to come on the jet because a cameraman was also accompanying us. As we drove to the airport, Alysha added the job to my list of in-flight responsibilities. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Lindsay? Make sure you tweet even when I’m asleep,’ she ordered. ‘I have fans in different time zones around the world, you know. I don’t want to leave them waiting.’

  There’s nothing like being trapped in a small metal tin with six children, your boss and a reality television camera. I spent the six hours we were in the air trying to convince the girls they really wanted to watch Daddy’s movie about the big boat for the eleventh time, while trying to stop the baby vomiting on the leather upholstery and attempting to think of witty tweets.

  I wondered how Alysha, who had popped a sleeping pill as soon as we left the runway, would feel if I snapped a photo of her drooling on her Chanel travel cushion and shared it with the Twittersphere.

  •

  The moment the plane’s wheels touched down on the runway I felt my stomach constrict. The truth is, I have mixed feelings about the Bahamas, especially Nassau, where the Applebys have a home in a high-tech gated community. It’s seen as the most dangerous place to live in the country, which is why I can never understand why you’d choose to bring young children here.

  I’ve spent a lot of time in the Bahamas, as many celebrities have homes in the tax haven. I’ve worked for oil barons, Oscar winners, sportsmen and country and western singers. When you lie by a pool in the Bahamas you see private jet after private jet flying overhead like buses.

  I suspect the Applebys only chose Nassau because it’s sixty miles from the island that Johnny Depp bought for $3.6 million after filming Pirates of the Carribean in the Bahamas. Whenever Alysha brags about their Bahamas property it’s one of the first facts she tells people. It’s not all posturing, though, as it is true we once popped over there for a Thanksgiving barbecue.

  Since I’d started working for the Applebys we’d spent a few weeks at the holiday home, always without Sir Cameron, whose schedule seemed impenetrable. I’m normally very adaptable to new environments because I move so often, but I never seem to be able to relax here.

  The local police give out leaflets warning residents about the risk of home invasions, armed robberies and bag snatchings. On our first trip, the children and I were given a crash course on what to do if our house was invaded. We were taught to run up to the attic, where there were secret cupboards in the walls that we could climb into and lock from the inside.

  The high walls around the community were designed to withstand everything from cyclones to terrorist attacks. The Applebys’ property comes with its own private beach, but the security measures are so extreme that the children aren’t allowed to set foot on the sand without alerting the community’s security team. Sometimes it seemed less hassle just to stay indoors. Besides, you didn’t really need to go outside anyway; when you pressed a button on the wall of the living room, the four walls sank into the floor to reveal a panoramic view of the ocean. There was also a pool that ran through the middle of the house, with a waterfall and lily pads.

  The cheapest properties in the gated community are $1.5 million according to their website, which does a good job of glossing over the dangers. ‘Come and walk our pristine beaches, socialize with like-minded people and enjoy martinis made the right way,’ it advertises. There is no mention of the fact the American government had rated the crime risk for travellers to Nassau as ‘critical’.

  There are upsides to staying here; the kids love driving around the community in a golf cart, stopping to collect bananas and fresh coconuts for their breakfast. In the evenings we eat out in a restaurant, which has an aquarium with a ‘real’ mermaid swimming in it. The actress’s costume is designed so that you can’t see her breathing apparatus, which the children find mesmerising. I’m also addicted to the coconut chocolate they sell in the local supermarket.

  However, to me it all feels like an optical illusion, and I can never quite shake a feeling of fear that ruins the paradise for me.

  In my drafts folder I have an email that I wrote to Will the last time I was staying in Nassau. ‘It’s 5.30 a.m. here and I can’t sleep. I’ve heard three gunshots and I’m scared because home invasions happen so regularly. My bedroom is the only one on the ground floor, so I’ve been sleeping under the bed. I wish you were here with me.’ I never did press ‘send’, because I didn’t want him to think I was a coward.

  That’s why I was thankful I was only staying one night in the Bahamas before flying to Melbourne. Nevertheless, it turned out to an extremely eventful twenty-four hours.

  •

  When I woke up to flashing lights, sirens and the buzz of helicopters my first thought was for the children. Whenever we’re in Nassau I sleep in my clothes, just in case the worst does happen and I have to move quickly. As I jumped out of bed and sprinted up the stairs, the baby started crying and Harlow yelled out ‘Lindsaaaay.’

  One of our neighbours in Nassau, the owner of an alcohol brand, has an imposing glass mansion that backs onto the ocean. From what I’d observed during our previous visits, he didn’t speak to anyone and spent all day sitting on his balcony throwing fish food into the water. The lights and the commotion seemed to be coming from his property, although I couldn’t be certain.

  I found all the sisters awake in their separate bedrooms and, following the drill, ushered them up to the attic. I didn’t make them climb into the cupboards just yet. They were already terrified enough as it was without being shoved into a confined space.

  It wasn’t my instinct to check on Alysha, and she didn’t follow us up to the attic. She can sleep through a hurricane when she has her earplugs in and when I tried to call her mobile it went straight to voicemail. ‘I’m sorry but Alysha is busy right now being fabulous,’ trilled her recording. ‘Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you if you’re important.’

  The next call I made was to the reception desk of the gated community. A woman answered, sounding frazzled. ‘Hello? Oh yes, we’re very aware of the incident occurring. There’s no need to worry. The police are dealing with it and residents are being advised to stay in their properties until further notice.’

  That night was one of the longest of my life. The attic had no windows so I couldn’t see what was happening outside but I was grateful when, within an hour, the buzz of the helicopters stopped circling and the sounds of angry voices outside died down.

  I was glad that on my first visit to the holiday house I had stored seven sleeping bags in the attic for eventualities such as this, although I ended up zipping two sleeping bags together to make a big, cushioned sack that we all shared.

  The next morning Alysha looked shocked when a policeman knocked on our door to explain the previous night’s commotion. ‘What noise?’ she asked. ‘Lindsay, did you hear anything?’

  A bomb had been found under the alcohol tycoon’s car, which was thankfully defused before it exploded. I was desperate to hear the full story and expected it to be the talk of the gated community the next morning. If we were in Los Angeles, the gossip columnists would have found the culprit before the police did. But the next day, nobody at the members’ club even mentioned it. Is a tax break really worth your kid’s safety?

  As I queued at the local cafe to collect Alysha’s morning espresso, the woman in front of me turned to her friend and gasped, ‘I’m totally stunned. I just can’t believe it happened.’

  At last, I had found somebody who was as shocked as I was. Then I heard the rest of her sentence. ‘I can’t believe she was wearing a tracksuit to a restaurant. Does she have no self-respect?’ I should have known that, among the Nassau mothers, a crime against fashion tops a bomb threat.

  I was suddenly very glad that I was heading back to Hamilton, even if it was only for a couple of days. I’d forgotten what a ‘normal’ life looked like. I was looking forward to being reminded of what lif
e was like without all the drama.

  13

  ‘I thought I told you to bring work boots?’ My dad glanced down at my feet, which were encased in gold Jeremy Scott for Adidas trainers with angel wings sticking out from the ankles. I’d been given them by a former boss who was a major-league basketball player.

  ‘But these are my work boots!’ I told him. ‘I’ve spent ten hours standing outside the Grammy awards in these without getting any blisters.’ My dad, who was wearing gumboots caked in orange clay, shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling. Then he held out his arms for a hug. ‘It’s so wonderful to have you here, Lindsay,’ he said. ‘Your mother and I have been worried about you.’

  This was a statement that I’d heard a dozen times since I’d arrived the day before. It seemed that everybody, from my parents to the milkman, the postman, the bus driver and the owner of the local corner shop, was ‘worried’ about me. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn the entire town’s concern, but it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

  On the day I arrived, as I dragged my suitcase up the mud track to my parents’ house, I was met by a slobbering pack of cattle dogs who leapt up and left dirty footprints down my white jeans. ‘Hi, Rowdy! Hi, Rusty! Hi, Bandit!’ I greeted my childhood family pets, who were growing grey around the temples. These were real dogs, not the little handbag rats you see carried around Hollywood wearing pearl necklaces as collars, with their claws painted pink. I was definitely home.

  I had felt myself relax as soon as I buckled my seatbelt on the plane. I always fly home with Qantas airlines, because just hearing an Australian accent saying ‘Welcome aboard’ makes me instantly feel like I can let my guard down. I’d flown into Melbourne Airport and then caught a bus for the last stretch to Hamilton, pulling in to the bus station at 6 a.m. as the sun rose.